Would Chester have told someone else about the treasure? And if so, did the telling cost him his life? “Money’s always a good motive,” I muttered.
“What’s that?” Detective Capri asked from behind me.
I jumped, feeling like an idiot. “Just talking to myself. Did you find anything?”
Capri nodded. “Sylvia’s car has been found.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sylvia’s Prius had been found in a parking garage in downtown Boston. The squad car had reported that the vehicle had been locked and the hood cool, indicating it had been parked there for a few hours. There was no sign of Sylvia anywhere in the area. I drove home from the police station fretting about what could be happening to my friend at that very moment. McKenzie had met up with me to check Sylvia’s house, my house and finally, the apartment over the garage for any clues we could unearth.
I let myself and McKenzie into Sylvia’s apartment. She’d given me a key when she’d moved upstairs after the third time she’d locked herself out. It fit into the deadbolt and clicked open. I pushed open the door and even though I doubted she was in there called out, “Sylvia?”
There was no answer.
McKenzie followed me in and glanced around the small studio apartment. “Not much here.”
Didn’t take a PI to figure that out. “She wanted to redecorate after the divorce, start fresh. She didn’t really have the money to do it, though, so she went with minimalist.”
“Now there’s an understatement,” McKenzie muttered. There was no TV, but her laptop was perched on the shaker end table beside the rattan chair. The kitchen was really one small slice of counter uncluttered by various appliances. A portable dishwasher was tidily tucked away next to the squat fridge. “Mac’s got the same model in her dorm room.”
I opened it. There was a takeout container inside that smelled strongly of garlic and a bunch of leafy greens. Dried beans in the cabinet above along with electrolyte infused water. Basic vegan fare.
“See,” I told McKenzie, pointing to the produce. “No one buys stuff that will rot right before they leave.”
“Not if they plan ahead.” She agreed. “Vegetables don’t prove that she didn’t leave by choice, only that she didn’t intend to when she bought the groceries.”
Point to her. I went to the small closet and opened it. There was a full basket of laundry down at the bottom and I pulled it out, checking the pockets.
I struck gold and withdrew a folded napkin with a phone number. No name or address, but the napkin had a logo printed on it in bold blue and gold embossed lettering. “Hook, Line, and Drinker,” I read and frowned.
“I know that place.” McKenzie came to look over my shoulder. “It’s a dive bar near the Boston harbor. Scuzzy, lots of seedy men hanging around overindulging. Most women wouldn’t feel comfortable going there alone.”
I turned to look up at her. “But you’ve been there?”
She shrugged. “Seedy is the name of my game and keeps me in take-out and discount footwear. I want to get a look at her hard drive. Do you happen to know Sylvia’s password?”
I didn’t and said so before asking, “Do you know how to get around it?”
“Well I don’t, but McKenzie 2.0 is the new and improved version. I’ll give her a ring and see what we can do. Why don’t you call that number and ask whoever it is if they’ve seen her lately.”
Practical and straight forward. I fished my cell out of my jeans pocket and stepped out onto the porch to make the call. A male voice picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
I froze. Not only was the voice startlingly familiar, it was the last one in the world I’d expected to hear.
“Is anyone there?” he asked, his tone impatient.
I was 99.9 percent sure but had to verify. “Eric?”
“Who is this?” Sylvia’s ex-husband asked.
I closed my eyes. Oh, Sylvie. What the frick had she been thinking? And why hadn’t she told me? God knew she told me every other detail about her recent sexual escapades, so why not this?
With some effort, I managed to clear my throat and force out the words. “This is Maggie Phillips. Sylvia’s gone missing and I found your number in her apartment. Any idea where she might be?”
“She’s right here.” There was a shuffling noise and then Eric handed the phone over to Sylvia.
“Hello?” Sylvia’s voice sounded groggy.
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” I asked her in my most irate mom tone. “Disappearing without a word? I called the police and just what the hell are you doing with Eric?”
“It’s complicated.” She hedged.
Drawn by my irate tones, McKenzie had come out onto the deck. She had her head tilted to one side and mouthed. “Is that her?”
I nodded even as I said. “Complicated? From where I’m sitting it seems pretty damn simple. You’ve been sleeping with your ex-husband and lying to me about it. Is he the father?”
Sylvia’s tone grew huffy. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh really? The last time I talked to you, you were begging me to adopt the baby, so yeah, I think if we’re at that point I deserve to know who the father is.”
McKenzie chucked her thumb at the stairs and murmured, “I’m just going to wait down there. Out of the blast radius.”
“I’m not one of your kids, you can’t talk to me like that.” Sylvia snapped. Her tone was so far from the serene spiritual goddess that I barely recognized her. Of course, stress and hormones could do that to a person.
“No, you’re not one of my kids because my kids are considerate enough to know when I’d be worried and call to let me know they’re all right. I thought you’d been kidnapped and that you were in trouble. Why didn’t you call to let me know where you’d gone? I called the police and had you reported as a missing person!”
“Eric’s right. You’re a controlling busybody.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“You’re the one who urged me to get divorced. Didn’t matter what I wanted, did it?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do, he was cheating on you!” I shrieked.
Mrs. Johnson, Sylvia’s other neighbor, was heading out to her car and turned her head to look up at me. I went back into the apartment and slammed the door.
“You talked me into moving upstairs and letting your brother move into my house.” She continued, not sounding upset anymore, just laying out the facts like I was on trial and she was presenting her case. “And then urged me to help you save your business reputation. It never mattered to you what I wanted or what was best for me.”
Revisionist history, table for one. “If that’s what you think of me,” I said through gritted teeth. “Then there isn’t much more we have to say to each other.”
“Fine,” she said and hung up.
“Fine,” I dropped into a seat and put my head in my hands, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“Am I a controlling busybody?” I asked Marty as I drained the macaroni. Steam billowed up into my face and I turned my head to the side.
“Pass,” Marty said as he shifted Mae to his other arm. The two of them had come over early, giving Penny time to rest.
I glowered at him. “I really need to know, Marty. Do you think I’m controlling?”
He blew out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Is this some sort of trap?”
“Never mind,” I transferred the macaroni from the colander into a bowl and set it aside to cool.
“Can I ask you a question?” Marty asked. When I nodded he pushed on. “Why are you worried about what Sylvia thinks?”
“Because she’s my friend,” I said immediately. “I care about her and her opinion does matter to me. I didn’t force her to move to the apartment over the garage.”
Marty made a face. “Well…,”
I slammed down the bag of frozen mixed vegetables I’d just extracted from the freezer. “Well, what?”
“Look, don’t shoot the messenger, but it was your suggestion that Penny and I move into her house and pay her rent.”
“Yeah, so she didn’t have to sell the house to pay for her divorce from el douche there. It was a perfect arrangement—”
“For you,” Marty said.
I stared at him. “Like you didn’t benefit from it?”
“We really can’t afford it, Maggie. Why do you think we’ve been coming over here for every meal?”
“Um, because you love my cooking and want to spend time with your family?” Had I fallen into the Twilight Zone?
“Penny and Mae are my family now,” he said softly.
“And I want to help you with them.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized exactly how they sounded. The bag of frozen mixed vegetables hit the floor with a plop. “Oh, God. I’m Chester Dale.”
“Who?” Marty asked.
“Sarah Dale’s deceased grandfather. He drove his kids nuts and they all have mad issues now, Sarah included.”
Mae started to squirm and Marty shifted her to his shoulder, the posture natural. “Yeah but he left them all money, right? You can be as crazy as an outhouse rat but if you give away money, people let you slide and call you eccentric. At least to your face.”
I glared at him. “Point taken.” All the fight went out of me though and I sagged in a boneless heap onto my ugly barstools.
“Here,” Marty said, handing Mae to me. “This will make you feel better.”
I took a hit of that sweet clean baby scent and exhaled a weary sigh. “So now what do I do?”
“Nothing,” Marty said.
“I’m not good at doing nothing.”
“No shi—” Marty broke off at my glare. Creative cussing was one of the Sampson sibling’s skillsets, but not around the five and under set. A woman had to draw the line somewhere. “Shiitake. No shiitake mushrooms in the pasta salad.”
“Your daddy doesn’t fool me for a minute,” I whispered to Mae.
“Seriously though, Maggie, there isn’t anything you can do.” He took a deep breath. “Penny and I have been talking. She wants to move back down south, to be near her mother and sisters. It’ll help her, I think. Now’s probably a good time, seeing as how Sylvia will want her house back.”
“When?” I whispered, holding the baby too tightly. My eyes felt gritty as though I hadn’t slept in days. “When will you leave?”
“After the party,” Marty said. “Can you be happy for me, sis?”
“I am.” The words sounded choked, what with all the emotion thickening my voice.
“Yeah, I’ll let you work on that.” Marty plucked Mae up out of my hands. “I better take her home for a nap. We’ll be back at six.”
He was heading for the door when I called out, “Marty? I really am happy for you.”
His face melted into a smile. “I know you are, sis.”
Once the pasta salad was safely stored in the fridge, I went into the living room. Josh and Kenny would be back from soccer practice soon and I didn’t want to fall apart in front of them. Hell, I didn’t want to fall apart at all but didn’t think I had too much of a choice in the matter.
Sylvia was mad at me, Marty was with his family, Leo was drowning in party planning and Neil was at work. For the first time in years, I had no one to lean on, no one to turn to. I was on my own.
Sensing my distress, Atlas got off the couch and came over to nudge my hand.
I petted his big head and listened to the sound of the clock ticking. Was I really such a control freak that I ruined one of my best friend’s lives? Had I steamrolled over her choices, ignored her wishes?
No, I decided. I had made suggestions and offered support. Maybe I’d been a tad vehement about Eric but he’d cheated on her and humiliated her. He’d gotten her fired for crying out loud. What friend wouldn’t have been irate on her behalf?
So now she was knocked up with his child, he was back in the picture and I was the villain of the piece. Nothing I could do about that, except be there for her if it all went to pot. She would see me however she wanted to see me and I couldn’t help being who I was.
Maggie Phillips, the crazy-ass laundry hag.
I smiled as I thought about what Marty had said about being called eccentric if you had money. Then frowned. Chester Dale had money, but according to the story, Aloysius and Bert had told me Chester had been poor as a church mouse. He’d enlisted in the military, lied about his age so he wouldn’t starve. So where had it all come from?
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered.
Atlas whined and pawed at my leg.
“Not you boy.” I scratched him behind the ears and then called Mackenzie.
“Can you get a cop’s address for me?”
“Do I want to know why?”
I thought about it. “Probably not.”
There was a pause. “Which cop?”
I told her and she agreed to text me the info. My knee bounced as I waited for the text. When it finally came in, I sent out another message, this time to Neil. Can you meet me?
Depends, he wrote back almost immediately. Will you be naked?
Not this time, slick.
We aren’t going to another nursing home, are we?
I smiled, being able to hear the wariness in his voice as if he were standing right next to me. Nope. Even better.
I waited and then smiled at the response. Name time and place.
Chapter Twenty
“What are we doing here, Uncle Scrooge?” Neil asked as I climbed out of the Mini.
“Solving a 7-decade old mystery,” I said, as I crossed the cracked shell driveway and rang the doorbell.
Detective Frank Finn opened the door, looking surprised to see me. “Mrs. Phillips? What are you doing here?”
“Hello, detective. I was just wondering if you had heard about your grandfather’s friend, Charles Peter Randolph the third.”
Frank Finn shook his head, his expression neutral. “No, I haven’t spoken to gramps. Did something happen?”
“He passed away. I’m surprised your grandfather didn’t tell you about it.”
“I haven’t spoken to him,” Finn said.
“Would you say the two of you are close?” I asked.
He stared at me as though I’d lost my mind. “Not really.”
“But he did tell you about the treasure, right.”
Frank Finn’s shoulders slumped. “Yes.”
“You were the one who broke into the Dale estate,” I said.
He didn’t deny it, didn’t wave us in or pull a firearm and threaten to shoot us. “How did you figure it out?”
“It’s what she does,” Neil’s tone held a note of pride.
“After Chester died, your grandfather told you about the treasure and asked you to check out where he’d lived. I thought it was funny that Sarah had never met your grandfather or any of the others. At first, I thought it was because Chester was trying to control her and keep her locked away on the estate. But it was more than that, wasn’t it?”
“He didn’t want them to know how he was living.” Frank nodded.
“Right. Here are his three old war buddies barely eking by in a state-run facility and good old Chester is just up the road, living the life of Riley. How do you suppose that happened?”
“He had a profitable business,” Neil said. “He built it up over the years.”
“Right, but he needed seed money to get started. You and I both know what it’s like scraping by on military pay. There was no way he could have saved enough to buy that lumber yard yet according to public record, he began operations a month after his final tour of duty was up. Which you found out when you started digging, right detective?”
He nodded, his expression bland.
“So did you find any evidence that Chester took the treasure? I’d hate to think your B&E efforts were for nothing.”
He sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. “No, I didn’t find anything. Sarah came back befor
e I could do too much looking. I memorized her schedule and went into the house when she went for her morning ride, but haven’t found a shred of evidence to prove he took the treasure. That place is a disaster area.”
I shook my head. “And here I was going to try to set you up with her.”
“Told you that you shouldn’t play matchmaker,” Neil grumbled.
Finn ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare her. I just wanted something to show gramps to give him a little peace. He wouldn’t let up about Chester being murdered. It wasn’t my jurisdiction and I had no proof but if Dale had taken the German cache and one of the others found out about it, well, there was motive.”
“Right.” I’d been thinking along the same lines myself.
“After seeing her with her relatives I backed off because clearly there’s enough drama in that family already. And the man was dead.” His gaze sharpened. “Wait, did you say that another one of them has died?”
“Charles,” Neil confirmed. “It looked like a stroke.”
“I don’t like it.” Finn paced his front porch. “Two of them in a month just when word is getting out about this treasure. There’s a reason tontines are illegal.”
“Just so we’re clear you didn’t try to kidnap me? Or mess around with Sarah’s furnace?”
He stopped, feet planting mid-step. “What?”
I shrugged. “Just checking.”
He looked from me to Neil. “Is she serious?”
“You can’t blame her for asking,” Neil said. “You admitted to not playing by the rules and breaking into the Dale house. Who knows how far you’d go?”
Frank looked mildly offended at the accusation but then shook his head. “No, you’re right, I shouldn’t have done it.”
So, one puzzle piece in place. “You need to tell Sarah what you did.”
“I know.”
“Now.” It was getting late, though the sun was still up. “Let’s go.”
Hung Out to Dry: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #4 Page 17